I’m regretting giving JJ my number and not taking his. If I had, I could call and apologize—explain. I guess I could call the firehouse, but—no, that’s insane. No, we aren’t doingthat.
“Hello! Uncle Miles!”
“Oh, sorry.” I take the offered phone and bring it to my ear.
Noah hops off the couch and runs back to his room.
“Hey.”
“Daydreaming about JJ, the hot firefighter, are we?” Audrey asks.
I roll my eyes. “There goes any chance I had of him calling.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Uh, yes, I do. He’s not going to call me now that he thinks I’m a stalker.”
“Maybe he thinks stalking is hot?” She says, her voice tinged with humor.
“He’s a firefighter!” I growl into the phone. “He can’t be into stuff like that. He likes saving and helping people. Ugh, don’t you have to go back to work?”
“Thankfully, yes. But you’re telling me more about this when I get home.”
“We’ll see about that. Later.”
“Bye,” she sing-songs.
I drop my phone beside me and sink further into the couch to figure out my options.
The best thing, as I can figure, is to avoid JJ completely. Never go by that firehouse again, which is a total bummer because it’s right by the school and easy to drive by with Noah before school. He’ll hate not going to the park, because it’s hisfavorite. I’ll just have to find the second closest station and leave even earlier in the morning, then find another park that’s in a good neighborhood to take him to. It’s clear there are no other options. I can never see that man again.
There are ten minutes until it’s bath time for Noah, so I gather up my messenger bag and bring it into the bathroom. I leave it on top of the sink, then get his towel and soap ready. I run the water a little too hot because he likes it that way.
I go to his room to give him his ten-minute warning and tell him to pick out his pajamas. He’s at the age where he wants to be independent, but neither Audrey nor I will leave him in the tub alone yet. So, I’ll work on my lesson plan while he does his thing in the bathtub with the curtain mostly closed.
We have his whole routine down, since I’m with him at least four nights a week. Audrey works four ten-hour shifts at the hospital, and a lot of times will get stuck late, called in early, or just pick up extra hours. She wants to make a good life for Noah. I think she feels she has to make up for the fact his father is a piece of shit who took off the moment she told him she was pregnant. Noah doesn’t seem to care much, but maybe he will as he gets older. Regardless, spoiling him with money won’t fixthoseissues, but all I can do is be here to support both of them however they need me to. They’re my family—the only family I have left. We only have each other, so I’ll do what I can for them.
“Ready!” Noah shouts—always shouting and always running—as he hurries into the bathroom, his arms full of his pajamas, underwear, and socks.
I chuckle, taking everything from his hands and folding them neatly to put on the counter by the sink.
“Let me know when you’re in the tub,’ I tell him, leaving the room and closing the door. I listen as he talks to himself.
“Shirt goes first. Then the pants. Oh, but then the socks too. Okay, time to get in the tub.”
I hear the water slosh around, and the curtain being pulled closed.
“Okay, I’m in!” he calls out.
I step back into the bathroom, sit on the toilet—lid closed, of course—and work on my lesson plan for next week while Noah splashes away in the tub.
I make a note to add a feelings chart because most of these kids still think anger and hunger are the same—which I totally get some days. Hangry is a real thing, and these kids burn through energy like crazy.
The week after next starts Community Week, which is when we invite cops, high school teachers, nurses—Audrey always comes—and firefighters… thankfully from another part of the city, to talk to our students. Each career gets a day, and we have multiple people from that particular job rotate through the classrooms to speak on different topics. On Friday, we celebrate with the workers and the kids by throwing a pizza party. It’s a fun week, and perfect to do right before Halloween.
Kids start to lose their ability to focus once the holidays are in session, and I blame that on a mix of excitement and the fact their routines change with all the days off and fun stuff we do. Not necessarily a bad thing, especially for me when most of my day is fun anyway, but the teachers who have older students struggle.
Noah splashes away in the tub, making explosion noises and little screams like his boats and animals are throwing grenades or something. I smile to myself as I peek around the curtain, just a little, just to take him in. He’s such a good kid—and so well-behaved. He’s smart, funny, and respectful.